


For a Second in Dreams

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (as in Felix is here willingly but he probably doesn't understand that he shouldn't be willing), Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unrequited Lambert/Rodrigue, i guess the tag fits?, idk how to tag this, implied Unrequited Felix/Dimitri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It’s scarily easy to pretend he’s Rodrigue. The boy looks the same as his father at his age.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19
Collections: Anonymous





	For a Second in Dreams

He finds Felix waiting in the usual room. The boy is sitting on the bed, legs crossed under a book. Lambert recognizes it as one of the many tales of Loog and Kyphon and he smiles. The legends of old inspire many young men, but perhaps even more they inspire the sons of Blaiddyd and Fraldarius across the ages. He remembers when he himself, along with Rodrigue, used to act out the stories of the books. It feels a lifetime away now.

Closing the door behind him, he approaches the bed and sits next to Felix, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair. The boy protests, though with laughter in his voice.

“Your Majesty! I’ll have to re-tie my hair now!”

“I told you to call me Lambert when we’re here, did I not?” he asks him gently, reaching out to pull the leather band out of Felix’s hair. The boy shakes his head so his hair falls back properly against his back.

“Sorry Lambert. I guess I’m just too used to using your title…”

“That’s alright. I do believe your father is rather strict with the etiquette, isn’t he?Though it doesn’t seem to stick much when it comes to Dimitri, does it?”

Felix blushes and hunches his shoulders, fingers fidgeting against the pages of the book laying on his lap.

It makes the ugly thing residing in Lambert’s chest try to crawl out.

He’s aware that Felix’s feelings for Dimitri are far from platonic. It’s obvious to anyone watching them for even just a moment when they’re together; Felix’s eyes always shine brighter around Dimitri, his attention held captive by the prince’s every word and movement. There isn’t a moment that Felix spends in Fhirdiad when he is not thinking of Dimitri.

It’s something Lambert wishes he had had, when he had been Dimitri’s age.

Back then, navigating through confused feelings for his best friend, he had been the one in Felix’s situation. He’d spent countless hours staring at Rodrigue with stars in his eyes. He’d learned, through varying degrees of jealousy and pride, that Rodrigue’s attention was almost all he wished for.

But Rodrigue had been popular even then, and certainly more accessible than Lambert and his title of prince. Surrounded by swarms of boys who hoped to befriend him and dozens of fair maidens who longed to be noticed, Rodrigue thrived, blind to Lambert’s plight. Blinder still, when he eventually fell for one brave knight who wielded her bow better than their peers.

Lambert had loved him and kept on loving him even now. He’s had years to learn how to hide his feelings, more than aware that they were neither appropriate nor requited. Rodrigue remains unreachable even after a lifetime together.

Felix will meet the same fate as Lambert, he knows. Second son of the Duke, no friendship with the prince of Faerghus will allow him more than that. Just as his brother, Glenn, has been betrothed to the girl of Count Galatea, he too will eventually be married off to strengthen the nobility of Faerghus.

It isn’t fair, but life is rarely so.

He passes a hand through the dark locks brushing Felix’s back. The boy shivers but doesn’t move away. He knows how it goes, by now. They’ve been doing this for about a year and a half. Lambert still isn’t sure how no one has come to learn about it after so much time, doesn’t know why Felix has seemingly never spoken up. It can’t be something the boy truly enjoys, can it?

Or is it something Lambert has stolen from him, as well?

Felix closes his book and puts it aside, turning to face Lambert. He has closed his eyes and already Lambert can see him relax his body, completely trusting. As though Lambert isn’t about to pull him on his lap and betray both his own morals and his best friend. As though what happens in this room is normal.

Lambert refuses to think of how low he could stoop, if he ever chose to abuse the trust Felix places in him. What he does with the boy is already reprehensible, disgusting even; if he took it another level down the gutters, he doesn’t think he could look at himself in the mirror ever again.

Under his hands, Felix is pliant; he moves where Lambert wants him to, leans on him when Lambert pulls him closer. The light weight of him against his chest makes Lambert’s stomach twist painfully but he ignores it, gently cupping the round cheek of the boy above him.

With him like this, it’s scarily easy to pretend he’s Rodrigue. The boy looks the same as his father at his age and if it weren’t for his eyes and the confidence he sometimes lacks, the illusion would be perfect. Perhaps, if he had Glenn’s personality, it would fit the memory he has of Rodrigue better. But Felix isn’t Glenn, and he’s not Rodrigue either, no matter how hard Lambert tries to convince himself of the contrary.

He tilts Felix’s head slightly and presses a soft kiss to his lips. They’re warm and plush and they open up nicely when he licks at them. The boy is a much better kisser than he should be at his age and it’s entirely Lambert’s fault. The fumbling kisses he’d given his king in the beginning had been sweet, but after so much time spent practicing, he’d learned the trick. Felix is nothing if not a quick learner and eager to prove himself.

His small hands rest on Lambert’s chest, fingers slightly crooked as he lets himself be caught in the sensations. Lambert closes his eyes, allowing the fantasy to play out as he has imagined it so many times before.

Ideally, it’s Rodrigue leaning on him, caught up in their kiss enough that he forgets to come back up for breath after some time. Lambert’s hands don’t dwarf Rodrigue’s, as they’re the same age then. His hands have always been a little bigger, but not by much. He’s always wondered what they would feel like in his own now, after many battles have roughened them up.

He presses down a hand and the body against him arches up, following the movement. A soft moan finds its way into his mouth and the hands on his chest slowly slide up until they can link behind his neck.

He breaks the kiss after a moment, eyes fluttering open to look at the expectant face in front of him. Lips parted and breath shallow, only waiting for more.

He brushes his thumb over Felix’s bottom lip, watching with rapt attention the shiver that courses across his small body.

It would be so easy to push him down on the bed and have his way. Felix would likely let him, even if he didn’t understand. The boy is kind and eager to please, eager to be seen. He accepted this madness Lambert thrust upon him months ago, no question asked, only a pure desire to serve his King in whatever way would please him.

But more than knowing it would make him one of the lowest men in all of Fódlan, what scares him is knowing that if he gave in, he would not be able to stop himself.

It’s how they ended up here months after Lambert first brought him to this room, making the boy swear to secrecy their meeting, and kissing him. He’d only wanted to scratch the itch that overcame him after seeing the uncanny resemblance between father and son, one night during a ball. A year and a half later, he continues to kiss the breath away from his best friend’s son, with Rodrigue none the wiser.

Hysterically, he wonders what Rodrigue would think if he learned of it.

How far does a life-long friendship stretch the limits of what is acceptable, how far does loyalty to his liege stretch the borders of his love for his son? Would he stop bringing Felix along when he came to visit Fhirdiad, despite Felix begging to see Dimitri at all times? Would the Shield of Faerghus remain steady in the face of danger to protect his King, knowing that his youngest son had been defiled for so long already?

“Lambert?” the small voice of Felix calls out, all the worry of the world laced into a single name.

Lambert’s eyes rise up again to meet Felix’s. Big, warm copper meets ice blue and quick are to follow the tears Felix so often sheds.

A heart bigger than the Goddess’ will, that boy has. Lambert feels all the guilt and disgust crawl up his throat to choke him, barely manages to swallow them down to comfort Felix.

He pulls him close and Felix rests his head against Lambert’s shoulder, his small body shaken by the hiccups of his tears.

“My apologies, Felix. I got lost in thoughts. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s- it’s fine. I was scared I d-did something wrong…”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t worry. How about I read to you? That book you had earlier looked awfully interesting, and it will be a while before I can read to you again.”

With a few more sniffs and after wiping his face with his sleeve, Felix nods and moves to pick up his book. He settles back against Lambert, slotted comfortably between his arm and side.

“Father said you’re going to Duscur, right?” he asks Lambert, looking up. His eyes are still shiny from his tears.

“Indeed, you’re well-informed. Dimitri and Glenn will be coming with me, too.”

This makes Felix pout.

“Does Dimitri have to go?”

“I’m afraid so,” Lambert tells him with a small smile. It doesn’t make Felix any happier but he seems to resign himself to it.

“I don’t think Father will let me go…”

“I think your father would be bored really quickly without you around. You should take that time to try and convince him to relax a little,” he says conspiratorially.

Felix snorts a laugh and nods solemnly then. “I will do my best, Your Majesty, but this will be hard.”

“Very hard indeed, but I’m counting on you. Now, how about we start on that story?”

Felix leans all his weight against him then and watches the pictures illustrating the book intently as Lambert starts reading.

He thinks, distantly, that this is a poor imitation of normalcy. He hopes, fervently, that this time away in Duscur will make him rethink his actions and finally stop these encounters.

He knows, terribly, that it would take more than that to make it stop.


End file.
